…winery presence and language, how they kept their company’s integrity and reality, never budged and remained not only genuine and sweet people, but a wine character that conveyed and spoke only in passionate octave.  How many other tasting rooms?  I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter.  Here I am trying to define wine and understand more why I took my sister-in-law’s counsel back in ’09 to start a wine blog…. Wouldn’t say I’m disappointed with how it’s gone, since them remaining in the adjunct professor trot and hopping from tasting room to tasting room as so many do.  I’m just stopping now.  NOW.  With this book and blog’s closure, and traveling and traversing into wine’s conceptual composition and anatomy.

I don’t see wine as anything fancy, or even special, and don’t see her as a simple beverage.  I don’t know what she is—  part theory, part phantasm, part ghostly concept and consistency, part Earth, part… maybe something we don’t know and that I won’t know by book’s closing period.  Experience, exploration… poetry, yes.  And not “bottled poetry”.  God I hate when people say that, use Stevenson’s line.  I don’t agree.  Wine may be poetic, but it isn’t bottled.  Even when in the bottle.  And if I get away from trying to define wine, ‘cause I’m not too confident she can be, again let’s wildly and near-childishly meander in her idea.  From ground to vine to glass.. then…. No, I’ll focus on experiences, how so many times when I had free time I’d go tasting.  There was one post on my first blog, one of the first posts, where I said something like “Wine Tasting… Off to do some of that.” It was that forward, that one dimensional and complicated, providing me education on my own character and what I wanted from wine…